


Grey Lie

by andrea_deer



Series: Kissing Meme [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, BUT ITS SUGGESTED IT WILL HAPPEN SOON AFTER, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kissing Meme, M/M, NO ONE DIES IN THE STORY, Possible Character Death, Soulmates, seeing colors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 11:45:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8444545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrea_deer/pseuds/andrea_deer
Summary: Kissing meme: 09) ‘We might die tomorrow’ kiss  - Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade for holmes-a-holic.   There are so many songs and stories about seeing colour for the first time, but much fewer about losing the sight of it again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Epic thanks for epic [undun](http://archiveofourown.org/users/undun/pseuds/undun) for beta! :)

There are so many songs and stories about seeing colour for the first time, but much fewer about losing the sight of it again.

 

The panicked moment, when you're out shopping with your friends, trying to pick the right shade of the dress to go with the shoes you saw on sale and suddenly they're all grey and you collapse on the floor in shock. As if someone just cut off your strings. Your mates run to you, not seeing any difference, but you just sit there stunned, suddenly more alone than ever.

 

Or you're driving a car, waiting for the green light and suddenly all of them are grey. And you know which one is green, you've been in this world before, but the shock almost gets you in a collision anyway.

 

Or maybe you just wake up one day and a grey, cold morning is even greyer than it should be.

 

Sometimes, however, as with seeing colours, it's not that easy. One blink doesn't change anything, one moment is not a definitive end. Greg's been losing colours for weeks now.

 

Subtly, at first. The hues became less distinguishable, but he was never one to pay them that much attention, so he didn't even notice at first.

 

Then everything kept getting duller and duller. Less vibrant.

 

His favourite blue shirt, once almost unprofessionally bright, now seemed, perfectly fine. He'd never wore it to work before. Now, in the morning rush, he didn't even realise.

 

He tells himself it means nothing, even though he knows he's lying. There could be another explanation. Losing colours may be a sign of his own eyesight malfunctioning. There's no certain explenation.

 

He knows this sort of things happen to soulmates of terminally ill patients; they watch their loved ones pass away and they can't lie to themselves it's not happening, because they do lose more and more colours every day. They look in the eyes of their beloved and the family around them can still fool themselves, but the soulmates know it's not going to get better. The absence of colours around them tells them so far more convincingly than any diagnosis.

 

Greg knows it can happen like that, but Mycroft isn't sick. He's as fine as he was a month ago. Certainly neither one of them is a young man, but they're not on their deathbeds either. Problems with eyesight are much more probable, he reasons with himself, and almost believes it.

 

When he wakes up he stares at the curtains covering their windows. He knows they're blue, but he can't tell now. It was the last thing he still saw in blue, it's the first colour he's fully lost, he thinks. He hasn't seen Mycroft's eyes properly in days.

 

He showers and dresses. Picks his clothes as carefully as he once had to, trying not to clash without being able to say how the colours work together. He still sees a bit of green and, for some reason, plenty of red and bronze hues.

 

He meets Mycroft as the man is leaving the dining room, ready for work. The only colour on him is the slight coloration of his hair and the vibrant red accents in his tie and the matching pocket square.

 

Greg forces himself to smile and as usual walks towards his husband to kiss him goodbye for the day. He tries to make it quick and casual as they usually do, nothing out of the ordinary, but he fails remarkably. His worry and sadness seep through and he clings to Mycroft, the kiss lengthening as Greg holds his husband close, worried this time the goodbye might be more final.

 

Mycroft responds in kind, his hand clenching almost painfully in Greg's hair as they get desperately tangled in each other.

 

When the kiss slows and ends, they don't move away for a long moment, resting their foreheads against each other, calming their breaths.

 

"I need to go," Mycroft says finally. "I'm going to be late." His hand is still on Greg's face, his thumb caressing slowly.

 

"Yeah, me too," agrees Greg and with a final look and a smile they part.

 

Greg moves towards the kitchen to at least grab a cup of coffee before work. He makes a mental note to finally get an appointment with an optician, but a small part of him hopes he will get so busy at the station, he will forget all about it again.

 

Mycroft walks out to the street, where he just barely make out the green of the tall trees growing opposite their gate. He wonders how long they can continue fooling themselves. How long they will be able to.


End file.
